


Lacking

by small_secret



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Biting, Competition, F/M, Future Fic, Hannibal being creepy, Hannibal is a horrible human., Jealousy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murderous Polyamory, Not Canon Compliant, Not Happy, OT3, Polyamory, Possessive Hannibal, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This Is Why We Have Proper Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_secret/pseuds/small_secret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither are particularly comfortable with this arrangement. Hannibal doesn't particularly care. (<i>Filled Prompt: Can you write one about Will and Clarice competing for Hannibal’s affection?<i>) (Mash up of canons.)</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacking

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many verses for this trio. Too many. Oh, well. I'll cry like the fangirl I am if Clarice doesn't get on the TV series or isn't remotely like this. Sometime after [this](http://marvelousbeing.tumblr.com/post/49396580188/meeting-of-minds-hannibal-fic) piece (I'll be bringing it over to AO3 in a few days, the muse isn't quite done). Lots of stuff happens between then and this fic. *handwave* As noted, this is a prompt fic.

Sugar in the pantry is taken out with olive oil and sweet fragrance; it's asked about in general. The tones so very mild and so very curious. Will doesn't know what Hannibal is talking about and Clarice says nothing as she wont. Will doesn't think about it until he realizes the next week when Clarice begins to wear jewel tone dresses and skirts to show off smooth legs and the faint smell of oranges floats along with her. And even then he doesn't notice until Hannibal's eyes drift across her.

He can wear what he want, the plaids or jeans. The linens and cool khakis, they all suit Will well, Clarice knows. Will has an easier time in what to wear because it means so little. He knows the doctor's tones, the doctor's sense of humor, and they share secret smiles over minute things. They've known each other for over half a decade, Will knows what drives the doctor mad and knows when he's pleased. Will's given the mirror mask and charm and she's given the sharp tongue.

There are bite marks on his lover's shoulders, never enough to scar but they are _bruises_ that sometime latices on broad planes and groves of blunt nails that have been scraped down muscular back. Will knows they don't belong to him; in the time since they've become lovers, he's never marked Hannibal. He's worn the bite marks and suck marks along his thigh and he supposes up and down his backside. Will yields, he savors, he lets chaos shower upon him.

Bite marks are left on hips and breasts and stomach, all these areas are private, she owns very few things that could expose the doctor's mark. In contrast Will does nothing to hide his marks, if anything she supposes that's a matter of pride for the doctor's other lover. Dr. Lecter can _show_ whom he wants most.

She has him at dawn, for Will's passed by her room to tend to Winston and sometimes the door is not shut. He's never caught them in coitus but in it's aftermath, Clarice dozing peacefully and Hannibal spooned from behind, his fingers playing with ringlets of red-gold hair in the morning's early light and as sunlight plays along Hannibal's body.

He has the doctor at midnight, for there are times that Clarice suffers insomnia and wandered into their wing hoping for conversation. Will's moaning and the rhythmic pounding frightfully clear to her ears and the smell of sex not unfamiliar to her. She _knows_ the doctor's fingers card into Will's sweat soaked curls.

Always too proud, she does not seek Hannibal out; Will thinks she's making him crave and chase.

Always desperate for solid connection, he easily curls against the doctor; Clarice _knows_ the doctor likes him best.

She bristles, she lashes against Hannibal. She never calls him by his name.

He soothes, he calms; he settles the doctor's temper. He allows Will to call him by his name.

And Hannibal sees them; how can he not? His troubled boy and his absurd girl don't hate each other. He imagines they'd get along quite well if he wasn't in their way, making them both fear the time he becomes bored with them. He should be offended they consider him a sociopath in that regard though there's a small insignificant part of him that would very much like to see them rip each other apart; but he knows them far too well. They'll break themselves long before they break each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the first paragraph should imply that Clarice is making a sugar scrub and sugar wax for her legs.


End file.
